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PA  U L JOSEPH  SACHS 


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Honors  Daumier 


A Collection  of  His  Social  and  Political  Caricatures 
Together  with  an  Introductory  Essay  on  His  Art 


By 

Elisabeth  Luther  Cary 


With  Seventy-six  Illustrations 


G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons 
New  York  and  London 
tl be  Ifcnicfccrbocfccr  press 
1907 


Copyright,  1907 
BY 

G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons 


TTbe  Tknfcfecrbocber  press,  IRew 


rmmrvczrt 

U8RA«V 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Honore  Daumier  . 

From  the  etching  by  Auguste  Boulard 
Mr.  Prune  . 

Robert-Macaire,  a Banker 
The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  I. 
“Sorry,  my  Good  Woman” 
Robert-Macaire,  Commission-Agent 
“Yes,  my  Pet” 

Parisian  Types,  I. 

Parisian  Types,  II. 

“See  him  Strut” 

The  Care-Taker 

Bohemians  of  Paris — The  Marauder 
Parisian  Types,  III.  . 

Bohemians  of  Paris — The  Sick-Nurst 
Events  of  the  Day,  I. 

The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  II. 
“Monsieur  is  a great  Thief?”  . 

The  Philanthropists  of  To-day 
The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  III. 
Friends  ..... 

The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  IV. 

The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  V. 
The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  VI. 
The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life,  VII. 
The  Instructor 

iii 


PAGE 

. Frontispiece 


37 

39 

4i 

43 

45 

47 

49 

5i 

53 

55 

57 

59 

61 

63 

65 

67 

69 

7i 


73 

75 

77 

79 

81 

83 


IV 


Wlusttations 


PAGE 

The  Papas  .........  85 

Bad  Luck  .........  87 

“I  Present  to  You  my  Son”  ......  89 

Travels  in  China  ........  91 

The  Universal  Exposition,  I.  . . . . - 93 

The  Universal  Exposition,  II.  . . . . . -95 

Opening  of  the  Hunt  .......  97 

Events  of  the  Day,  II.  .......  99 

The  Universal  Exposition  ......  101 

The  Railways,  I.  .......  103 

The  Universal  Exposition,  III.  .....  105 

The  Railways,  II.  .......  107 

Winter  Sketches  ........  109 

Summer  Sketches,  I.  .......  m 

The  Turnstile  . . . . . . . . 113 

Parisian  Sketches  . . . . . . . 115 

Events  of  the  Day,  III.  .......  117 

Events  of  the  Day,  IV.  . . . . . . .119 

The  Railways  . . . . . . . . .121 

Events  of  the  Day,  V.  ......  123 

The  Pleasures  of  the  Chase  ......  125 

Aquatic  Sketches  . . . . . . . .127 

Events  of  the  Day,  VI.  .......  129 

At  the  St.  Maur  Encampment,  I.  . . . . -131 

Our  Troopers  .........  133 

Summer  Sketches,  II.  .......  135 

At  the  St.  Maur  Encampment,  II.  ....  137 

In  China,  I.  ........  139 

In  China,  II.  ........  141 

Sketches  of  the  Hunt  .......  143 

In  China,  III.  .........  145 

Events  of  the  Day,  VII.  .......  147 

In  China,  IV.  .........  149 

Events  of  the  Day,  VIII.  . . . . . . 151 


Illustrations 


V 


PAGE 

Events  of  the  Day,  IX.  . . . . . . -153 

Events  of  the  Day,  X.  ......  155 

The  World  Depicted  .......  157 

Dramatic  Sketches  . . . . . . . -159 

Events  of  the  Day,  XI.  .......  161 

Events  of  the  Day,  XII.  .......  163 

Events  of  the  Day,  XIII.  . . ...  . . . 165 

Events  of  the  Day,  XIV.  ......  167 

Events  of  the  Day,  XV.  .......  169 

Events  of  the  Day,  XVI.  . . . . . . -171 

Events  of  the  Day,  XVII.  ......  173 

Events  of  the  Day,  XVIII.  ......  175 

Events  of  the  Day,  XIX.  ......  177 

Events  of  the  Day,  XX.  ......  179 

Events  of  the  Day,  XXI.  .......  181 

Events  of  the  Day,  XXII.  ......  183 

Events  of  the  Day,  XXIII.  ......  185 


Honore  Daumier 


Honore  Daumier 

IF  we  care  to  look  upon  the  France  of  the  past  century- 
through  eyes  that  note  not  merely  the  surface  view, 
but  types,  characteristics,  deep-seated  principles,  un- 
conscious tendencies,  with  a clear  appreciation  of  their 
values  and  relations,  we  cannot  do  better  than  turn  page 
by  page  a collection  of  Daumier’s  drawings,  if  by  good 
fortune  such  may  have  fallen  in  our  way.  The  chances  are 
that  our  social  and  political  ruminations  will,  however,  be 
somewhat  disturbed,  and  at  times  overwhelmed,  by  the 
extraordinary  beauty  of  the  art  thus  unfolded.  Whether 
we  are  contemplating  a “bas-bleu,”  a Robert  Macaire,  a 
Bohemian  of  the  Paris  streets,  an  amateur  of  art,  a barrister, 
a bourgeois  family,  or  a statesman,  we  are  confronted  by 
the  same  magnificent  vitality  of  line,  the  same  exquisite 
modulations  of  light  and  shade,  the  same  massive  structure 
and  clear  definition  of  form.  The  artist’s  sense  of  sheer 
fun,  his  willingness  to  lash  political  opponents,  his  discerning 
eye  for  temperamental  and  moral  traits,  unquestionably 
are  elements  in  our  enjoyment;  but  nothing  counts  as 


3 


4 


Ibonore  Daumier 


much  as  the  aesthetic  charm.  By  this  Daumier’s  art  ranks 
with  that  of  the  masters,  and  conclusively  demonstrates, 
if  demonstration  were  needed,  that  the  “subject”  and  the 
“literary”  interest  of  a picture  as  little  impair  as  improve 
its  pictorial  value. 

Honore  Daumier  was  born  at  Marseilles  on  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  February,  1808,  and  by  the  time  he  was  twenty- 
one  had  commenced  his  career  as  a lithographer.  His 
education  in  art  had  been,  apparently,  of  the  slenderest 
description,  but  had  been  supplemented  by  long  strolls 
through  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  especially  in  the  de- 
partment of  antiques,  where,  no  doubt,  classic  simplicity 
and  breadth  had  their  effect  upon  his  vision,  enabling  him, 
after  the  fashion  of  great  art,  to  perceive  these  qualities 
in  the  world  of  multitudinous  detail  surrounding  him. 
Chance  brought  him  into  relations  with  a lithographer  who 
taught  him  his  trade,  and  by  the  time  he  was  twenty-one 
he  was  working,  for  the  most  part  anonymously,  for  a pub- 
lisher by  the  name  of  Beliard,  and  presently  for  Ricourt, 
Hautecceur-Martinet,  and,  most  important  of  all,  for 
Charles  Philipon  and  the  house  of  Aubert. 

It  is  difficult  to  recognise  in  his  beginnings  the  presage  of 
his  robust  genius.  He  notes  expression  and  detail,  but  is 
feebly  uncertain  in  his  composition,  and  his  lights  and 
shadows  are  scattered  over  the  space  like  a brood  of  fright- 
ened chickens  without  organisation  or  intention.  In  the 
admirable  catalogue  raisonne  of  the  lithographs,  edited  bv 


1bonor£  Daumier 


5 


Mm.  Hazard  and  Delteil,  the  earliest  known  lithograph  is 
tentatively  ascribed  to  1829.  This  represents  a fatuous  old 
man  (Mayeux)  seated  between  two  ambiguous  charmers  who 
are  plying  him  with  champagne.  In  the  background  is  a 
maid  leaving  the  room  with  a bottle  and  a plate  in  her  hands. 
The  drawing  is  weak  and  indeterminate,  and  the  values  are 
practically  non-existent  so  far  as  any  logical  relation  be- 
tween them  is  concerned;  yet  the  picture  manages  to  convey 
the  artist’s  meaning  with  singular  directness.  The  sly 
and  senile  smile  on  the  face  of  the  flattered  old  man,  the 
awkward  coquetry  of  the  large  woman  on  his  left,  the 
contrast  between  his  shrunken  frame  and  the  abounding 
contours  of  his  companions,  might  have  been  found  on  a 
page  of  Thackeray’s  Sketch-Book.  The  subject  certainly 
is  one  that  would  have  appealed  to  the  English  satirist; 
and  it  is  not  one  that  is  characteristic  of  Daumier’s  choice. 

The  following  year  the  political  weekly  entitled  La  Car- 
icature was  founded  by  Philipon  with  the  artistic  collabora- 
tion of  Daumier,  Grandville,  Desperet,  Monnier,  Decamps, 
Raffet,  Travies,  Bouquet,  Benjamin  Roubaud,  and  others. 
From  the  beginning  of  1832  Daumier  played  an  active  part 
in  connection  with  this  publication,  contributing  to  it  from 
first  to  last  no  fewer  than  a hundred  lithographs.  The 
earlier  ones  were  signed  with  the  pseudonym,  Rogclin,  and 
were  without  especial  distinction  of  execution.  They  were 
drawn,  to  use  M.  Champfleury’s  words,  as  a child  draws 
from  casts.  One,  signed  H.  Daumier,  published  prior  to 


6 


1bonor£  Daumier 


August  30th,  1832,  and  entitled  Gargantua,  represents 
Louis-Philippe  seated  on  his  throne  and  swallowing  bags 
of  coin  which  have  been  extracted  from  the  poor  by  his 
ministers,  and  which  are  carried  by  lilliputian  personages 
up  a plank  that  stretches  from  the  ground  to  his  mouth. 
At  the  foot  of  the  plank  is  a crowd  of  miserable  men  and 
women  handing  over  their  money.  About  the  throne  are  fat 
little  favourites  gathering  up  peerages,  decorations,  com- 
missions, and  the  like,  into  which  the  enforced  offerings  have 
been  converted.  Here  still  the  drawing  is  to  the  last  degree 
immature,  the  only  suggestion  conveyed  by  it  of  the  later 
richness  and  solidity  of  Daumier’s  work  appearing  in  the  good 
round  contour  of  Louis-Philippe’s  heavy  body,  pendent  over 
his  small  legs.  The  satiric  intention,  however,  was  sufficient 
to  throw  the  artist  into  prison,  where  he  remained  from 
September,  1832,  to  February,  1833,  accumulating,  ap- 
parently, a fine  store  of  antipathies  toward  judges,  juries, 
and  barristers  that  were  to  form  the  basis  of  a remarkable 
series  of  drawings  and  a few  paintings  in  which  his  genius 
reaches  its  high-water  mark.  For  two  and  a half  years  after 
his  release— until  La  Caricature  was  stopped  by  the  restric- 
tion of  the  liberty  of  the  press — he  produced  work  in  which 
a certain  ferocity  of  moral  conviction  and  ardent  youthful 
vengeance  against  social  evils,  found  expression  in  blacks 
and  whites  and  greys  marshalled  and  ordered  for  his  artistic 
purposes  with  the  firmest  authority.  He  was  now  in  full 
possession  of  his  instrument  and  able  to  support  his  intel- 


1bonor£  Daumier 


7 


lectual  idea  with  his  ripened  craftsmanship.  One  of  the 
most  beautiful  products  of  this  period  is  the  famous  figure 
of  Barbe-Marbois,  the  nonogenarian  marquis,  seated  in  his 
arm-chair,  his  quilted  gown  wrapped  about  his  withered 
limbs,  his  head  in  its  close  black  cap  drooping  forward,  his 
hands,  gnarled  and  thin,  passively  crossed,  his  mouth  partly 
open,  his  pale  profile  sharply  cut — a wonderful  representa- 
tion of  extreme  age  without  a feature  compromised  or 
softened,  yet  keeping  by  the  unity  and  force  of  the  workman- 
ship a superb  dignity,  the  unimpeachable  gravity  of  great 
art. 

A composition  directly  reflecting  Daumier’s  own  ex- 
perience is  the  lithograph  entitled  Souvenir  de  Ste.  Pelagie 
and  published  in  Charivari  for  the  14th  of  March,  1834. 
It  shows  two  young  men  and  one  old  man  in  a prison  cell.  One 
of  the  younger  men  is  reading  to  his  companions  from  the 
Tribune.  The  coarse  furnishings  of  the  cell  are  shown  in 
detail.  The  three  men  are  said  by  Champfleury  to  be  Dau- 
mier’s companions  in  captivity,  Lerouge,  the  engraver, 
Landon,  the  lawyer,  and  Masse,  the  writer  of  romance. 
The  light  and  shade  of  the  picture  are  sharply  contrasted, 
the  shining  white  jacket  of  the  standing  figure  and  the  il- 
lumined wall  back  of  the  others  giving  an  effect  of  great 
brilliancy  to  the  whole.  The  modelling,  however,  is  still 
a little  soft,  and  lacks  the  decisive  simplicity  of  other  "works 
even  of  the  same  year.  One  of  these,  which  we  reproduce, 
is  the  well-known  Rue  Transnonain , Le  15  Avril,  1834.  In 


8 


Ibonore  Daumier 


this  powerful  composition  we  see  what  Mr.  McCall  defines 
as  Daumier’s  “grand  and  elemental’’  style,  which,  he  says, 
is  exercised  upon  trivial  matter,  but  which  in  this  instance 
is  devoted  to  a subject  that  no  critic,  French  or  British, 
could  condemn  as  “trivial.”  The  scene  is  laid  in  one  of 
the  little  side  streets  of  the  Saint-Martin  quarter  which  are 
inhabited  by  workmen,  and  which  were  invaded  by  furious 
soldiery  on  one  of  the  days  of  insurrection.  A room  has 
been  entered,  the  furniture  overturned,  and  the  occupants 
slaughtered.  Daumier  has  chosen  the  moment  following 
the  massacre.  A deadly  silence  seems  to  pervade  the  place 
depicted.  On  the  floor  is  lying  a workman  in  a blood- 
stained shirt;  under  him  a young  child  who  has  been  crushed 
by  his  fall;  at  the  right  is  an  old  man,  and,  in  the  background, 
near  the  door,  a woman;  both  dead.  The  horror  of  such 
material  is  obviated  for  us  only  by  the  serene  nobility  of 
the  method.  Daumier  is  nowhere  more  completely  the 
detached  artist  deeply  moved  by  his  subject,  but  unforget  - 
ful  of  the  aesthetic  rights  of  his  art.  As  in  the  Souvenir 
de  Ste.  Pelagic  he  is  as  little  as  possible  the  satirist.  The 
human  situation  has  revealed  its  tragedy  to  him,  and  he 
treats  it  without  exaggeration  or  whimsicality,  and  with  a 
breadth  and  sombre  splendour  of  style  that  accords  with 
its  significance. 

Another  drawing  of  1834  is  not  less  austere  in  its  message 
but  is  in  the  vein  of  caustic  irony.  Louis-Philippe,  in  the 
company  of  a judge,  is  standing  by  the  side  of  a co  on 


Ibonore  Daumier 


9 


which  lies  a dying  prisoner.  Feeling  his  pulse,  the  king 
remarks,  “This  one  may  be  set  at  liberty;  he  is  no  longer 
dangerous.”  Here  again  the  execution  is  remarkable  for 
its  imposing  simplicity  and  largeness.  Although  the  forms 
are  modelled  with  a sculptural  solidity,  they  are  set  in  an 
atmosphere  that  floats  and  shimmers — a circumambient 
air  that  fills  the  background  with  elusive  mists.  The  fat 
hand  of  Louis  extended  in  a gesture  of  explanation  is  a 
detail  in  which  the  later  fluency  of  Daumier’s  line  appears. 

The  Rue  Transnonain  drawing  belongs  to  a set 
of  five  drawings,  furnished  by  Daumier  for  a collection 
called  U Association  Mensuelle  which  Philipon  published. 
Another  of  the  set  is  the  famous  one  entitled  Le  Ventre 
Legislatif,  in  which  thirty-five  of  the  ministers  and  deputies 
of  the  Centre  of  1834  are  represented.  It  is  a composition 
that  seems  to  summarise  Daumier’s  achievement  in  that 
divination  of  character  upon  which  the  success  of  the  carica- 
turist must  inevitably  depend.  The  field  abounded  with 
types  to  which  his  pencil  fitted  itself  as  if  by  conscious 
compatibility.  Louis-Philippe’s  reign  was  one  in  which 
Marseillaise  fervour  could  find  enough  to  condemn,  and  the 
people  by  whom  he  w’as  surrounded  lent  themselves  readily 
to  the  sarcasm  of  critics;  especially  of  those  critics  who  had 
in  their  own  veins  the  fiery  blood  of  Southern  France;  and 
to  whom  incessant  compromise  and  the  contradiction  of 
high  ideals  by  debased  practices  was  fuel  for  an  ever-burning 
flame  of  moral  ardour  in  the  cause  of  liberty. 


IO 


1bonor£  2>aumter 


As  the  historian  of  the  bourgeois  government  Daumier 
has  much  to  say  to  the  student  of  French  politics.  Against 
the  apostles  of  moderation  and  profitable  peace  he  launched 
the  arrows  of  his  wit,  not  too  sharply  pointed,  but  none  the 
less  capable  of  inflicting  ugly  wounds.  In  the  caricatures 
of  this  period  much  of  the  effect  is  due  to  the  masterly 
psychological  portraiture  which  interprets,  without  mis- 
representation and  even  without  any  extraordinary  em- 
phasis, the  inner  qualities  and  moral  features  of  the  subject, 
precisely  as  the  outer  features  are  modelled  with  a terrible 
truth  far  more  to  be  feared  than  the  grossest  exaggeration. 
It  is  interesting  to  recall  that  many  of  these  portraits  were 
made  from  little  coloured  clay  models,  in  which  Daumier 
revealed  himself  as  to  sculpture  born,  and  nourished  the 
tendency  to  be  found  in  all  his  early  work,  the  tendency 
to  suggest  high  relief  and  to  place  an  excessive  emphasis 
upon  what  Mr.  Berenson  calls  the  “tactile  values.” 

Of  these  clay  models  M.  Geoffroy  (writing  in  L' Art  et 
les  Artistes  for  June,  1905)  says  thirty-eight  are  in  existence 
besides  the  statuette  of  Ratapoil,  which  has  been  cast  in 
bronze,  and  the  bas-relief  of  the  Emigrants.  Thirty-six 
of  the  portrait  busts  were  at  the  time  of  writing  in  the 
possession  of  M.  Philipon,  the  grandson  of  the  Charles 
Philipon  who  founded  La  Caricature  and  Charivari,  where 
Daumier’s  early  drawings  appeared,  one  of  the  remaining 
two  was  given  to  Champfleury,  and  the  other  to  Nadar. 
The  bas-relief  of  the  Emigrants  belongs  to  M.  Geoffroy- 


1bonor£  Daumier 


1 1 

Dechaume,  the  son  of  the  sculptor  who  was  Daumier’s 
friend.  Champfleury  in  this  article  is  quoted  as  saying 
that  Daumier  was  present  at  the  sessions  of  the  Chamber  of 
Peers,  a bit  of  clay  in  his  hand,  and  modelled  his  portraits 
from  life,  using  them  later  as  the  basis  for  his  lithographs. 
M.  Geoffroy-Dechaume,  on  the  other  hand,  speaks  of  his 
making  the  little  busts  “from  life,”  but  immediately  after 
leaving  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  which,  of  course,  would 
make  them  memory  studies.  Whatever  the  method,  and 
with  an  observation  so  acute  and  a memory  so  retentive 
as  Daumier’s,  such  distinctions  matter  little,  he  arrived 
at  a result  in  which  the  salient  characteristics  of  his  subjects 
were  raised  to  the  nth  power  without  overwhelming  their 
natural  appearance.  M.  Geoffrov,  whose  privilege  it  has 
been  to  study  the  clay  models  in  M.  Philipon’s  collection 
at  first  hand,  says  of  them,  as  they  now  appear  in  their 
damaged  condition,  with  remnants  of  colour  still  clinging 
to  them:  “Here  in  these  glass  cases,  this  exhibition  of 

little  busts  is  particularly  vengeful.  It  suggests  a massacre 
in  wdiich  genius  has  not  once  missed  its  mark.  Certain 
resemblances,  even,  might  be  put  aside  and  certain  identi- 
fications, without  lessening  the  general  appalling  effect. 
No  doubt  it  is  interesting  to  see  Persil,  the  Attorney-General 
with  his  straight  sharp  obstinate  profile;  Delessert,  the 
Prefet,  with  his  bit  of  a nose  and  his  baboon  mouth ; Jacques 
Le  Fdvre,  the  banker,  with  his  face  like  a knife-blade; 
Dubois  d ’Anger,  the  deputy  and  president  of  the  Court  of 


12 


Ibonore  Daumier 


Assizes,  with  his  flesh,  his  thick  neck  and  shoulders,  and 
his  chubby  face;  Chevandier,  the  deputy,  with  the  double 
twist  of  his  forelock  and  his  trumpet  nose;  Guizot,  minister, 
of  an  anxious  physiognomy  in  which  both  ill-health  and 
grief  are  recorded ; Gallois,  journalist,  afflicted  with  hydro- 
cephalus, whose  small  chin  makes  an  extraordinary  contrast 
with  his  large  forehead ; Viennet,  deputy,  academician,  and 
fabulist,  his  head  sunk  in  his  stock,  the  bumps  of  his  fore- 
head looking  as  though  he  had  been  knocked  about  in  some 
romantic  brawl ; Podenas,  deputy,  with  his  pointed  forehead 
and  his  thick  lip ; Pataille,  deputy,  quite  refined ; Prunelle, 
deputy,  physician,  Mayor  of  Lyons,  his  scornful  face  partly 
hidden  by  his  hair;  d’Argout,  minister,  his  chin  poised  on 
his  cravat,  his  mouth  and  eyes  artful,  and  his  enormous 
nose  like  the  beak  of  a toucan;  Odier,  banker  and  deputy, 
old,  with  a concentrated  expression,  his  long  white  hair 
falling  over  his  collar;  Dupin  the  elder,  president  of  the 
Chamber,  all  mouth,  a huge  mouth  which  pushes  forward, 
fleshy  and  gaping,  the  lower  part  of  the  face  heavy  and 
surmounted  by  a low  forehead  with  a pointed  skull  flanked 
by  two  vast  ears;  Barthe,  Keeper  of  the  Seals,  Minister 
of  Justice,  moon-faced  and  tallow-complexioned ; Charles 
de  Lameth,  deputy,  converted  to  some,  a renegade  to 
others,  with  a discontented,  peevish  countenance,  and  a 
naiTow  head  covered  by  the  Church- warden’s  black  skull- 
cap; Fruchard,  deputy,  massive,  bloated,  his  great  nose 
hanging  over  his  mouth,  large  cheeks,  and  no  cranium; 


Ibonore  Daumier 


13 


Valout,  deputy,  anxious,  pretentious,  with  a nose  that 
looks  like  a false  one,  and  a bitter  mouth ; and  Gady,  judge 
at  Versailles,  and  Ganneron,  deputy  and  candle  merchant, 
and  Lecomte,  and  Delort,  general  and  deputy — I follow, 
for  the  most  part,  the  labels  edited  by  Champfleury. 

“ But  I insist  that  the  individual  portrait  is  outrun  and 
that  we  find  ourselves  here  in  the  presence  of  human  types, 
of  forms  and  expressions  which  have  such  an  interest  as 
to  make  unnecessary  the  putting  of  a name  to  the  masks. 
Caricature  it  may  be,  but  a caricature  that  gives  its  value 
to  the  dominant  truth  by  these  enormous  noses,  these 
minute  noses,  these  apologies  for  noses,  these  hollow  or 
drooping  cheeks,  these  pointed  or  blunt  skulls,  these  tightly 
pressed  or  open  mouths,  these  thin  or  thick  lips  which  lock 
in  or  pour  forth  their  secrets,  these  thin  or  harsh  smiles,  these 
fat  smiles,  these  grins  that  deform  the  entire  physiognomy 
by  their  frightful  bitterness,  these  heavy  chins  which  hang 
over  their  white  cravats,  chins  that  disappear  in  flesh  and 
goitrous  growths,  these  heads  almost  without  skulls,  these 
bald  craniums,  these  white  locks  rolled  into  pigeon  wings, 
these  flying  white  locks,  these  black  locks  plastered  down 
as  if  with  wax,  these  red  locks,  these  bits  of  white  or  black 
whisker  which  frame  red  or  yellow  countenances,  these 
pallid,  puffed,  or  emaciated  faces,  these  eyes  with  red  lids 
and  encircled  with  greenish  rings,  these  round  humid  eyes 
that  leap  from  their  sockets  and  seem  about  to  roll  down 
the  cheeks.  Many  of  these  visages  make  one  think  of 


14 


1bonor£  2>aumier 


animals  that  growl,  that  grunt,  that  chew  their  cud,  and 
that  sleep,  or  of  sick  birds  that  weary  on  their  perch.  In 
truth  they  appear  to  be  undergoing  tortures,  a prey  to 
torments,  gnawed  by  suffering,  convulsed  with  grief. 
Moral  maladies  are  added  to  physical  defects,  and  their 
faces  express  with  unusual  violence  their  characteristic 
pretentiousness,  self-importance,  meanness,  ill-temper:  they 
are  old  beaux,  sly  accomplices,  bourgeois  burlesques,  cruel 
ogres.  And  in  spite  of  all  there  is  good-nature  and  kindli- 
ness in  Daumier’s  pitiless  talent.  He  is  ferocious,  and  he 
has  the  air  of  being  so  for  fun.  One  certainly  laughs,  but 
the  ferocity  remains.” 

In  the  lithographs  founded  upon  these  models  the  good 
nature  is  more  apparent  than  the  ferocity.  The  bland 
charm  of  the  medium  has  no  doubt  much  to  do  with  the 
fluent  modelling,  the  modified  outlines,  the  rich  flow  of  the 
light  and  shade,  but  the  difference  lies  chiefly  in  the  fact 
that  Daumier  here  was  making  his  published  statement, 
and  his  rare  conscience  would  not  permit  him  to  put  forth 
less  than  his  full  artistic  power  in  these  drawings  by  which 
his  ability  was  to  be  represented.  It  was  all  very  well  to 
manipulate  his  bits  of  clay  sufficiently  to  throw  into  violent 
relief  the  dominating  feature  of  the  physiognomy  observed, 
but  when  it  came  to  making  a picture,  the  spirit  of  art 
swayed  him  as  the  spirit  of  satire  could  not,  and  the 
bitterness  of  his  clay  caricatures  melted  into  the  tenderness 
of  closely  related  values,  the  beauty  of  fathomless  shadows 


1bonor£  2)aumier 


15 


and  caressing  half-tones,  the  dignity  of  finely  composed 
masses  and  free  sweeping  contours.  Nevertheless,  it  is  in 
this  series  of  portraits  of  judges  and  lawyers  that  Daumier 
lays  bare  his  ideal  of  justice  and  honesty  with  most  force. 
His  barristers  delivering  their  arguments  with  shallow  fury 
and  conspicuous  vanity  arouse  in  one’s  mind  an  inevitable 
fervour  of  sympathy  with  dignity  and  quietude  and  candour. 
His  judges,  half-asleep  or  eager  for  the  hour  of  release, 
inattentive  or  pompous,  inspire  not  only  a disgust  for 
characters  so  unresponsive  to  high  demands  upon  them, 
but  also  a more  definite  respect  for  the  opposite  type, 
fortunately  known  to  most  of  us. 

Le  Charivari,  a daily  paper  founded  in  1832,  also  by 
Charles  Philipon,  received  the  larger  number  of  Daumier’s 
lithographs  for  nearly  forty  years.  In  this  journal  ap- 
peared between  1835  and  1839  the  Robert  Macaire  series, 
the  invention  of  which  was  claimed  by  Philipon.  Robert 
Macaire,  as  Philipon  perhaps  conceived,  and  as  Daumier 
indubitably  realised  him,  is  a rascal  whose  rascality  has  in 
it  the  dash  and  fire,  the  ebullience  and  picturesqueness  of 
the  Tartarin  type.  He  is  the  prince  of  adventurers,  im- 
pudent, insouciant,  ready  with  wit  and  with  tongue,  making 
a million  or  a franc  with  equal  complacency  so  long  as  he 
can  make  it  by  cheating;  a master  of  tortuous  sophistries, 
a promoter  of  empty  schemes,  the  swindler  of  the  stupid 
and  the  grasping.  He  leans  back  in  his  armchair,  or  struts 
about  his  office,  his  hands  thrust  impertinently  under  his 


i6 


1bonor£  Daumier 


coat-tails  or  plausibly  gesticulating,  his  eyebrows  insolently 
raised,  his  portly  figure  swelling  with  self-importance. 
He  plays  his  game  like  a true  French  actor,  absorbed  in 
doing  it  as  well  as  he  can.  He  puts  conscience  into  his 
deceptions  and  makes  them  passionately  true  to  his  ideal 
of  a deception.  There  is  something  tremendous,  regal, 
heroic  in  his  scampish  poses.  The  closely  embroidered 
tissue  of  his  invention  is  a rich  surface  that  makes  one  think 
of  the  splendid  fabrics  of  the  Orient  glittering  with  gold 
thread  upon  a groundwork  of  coarse  cotton  cloth.  His 
victims  are  not  less  significantly  characterised.  Their 
greed  matches  his  own.  For  the  most  part  they  are  the 
poor  and  narrow  creatures  who  pass  through  the  world 
expecting  much  for  nothing,  and  resenting  a fate  that  has 
discriminated  against  them,  however  justly. 

In  these  compositions,  as  in  most  of  those  involving 
political  caricature,  Daumier  enters  upon  his  task  with  such 
amplitude  of  insight,  such  thoroughness  of  interpretation 
that  the  sense  of  caricature  drops  from  his  work,  leaving 
it  brazen  reality,  showing  its  face  quite  shamelessly,  almost 
innocently,  and  with  no  defect  greater  than  the  cruel 
caprice  of  nature  has  inflicted  upon  it,  or  might  credibly 
have  inflicted  upon  it. 

When  we  arrive  at  the  work  undertaken  in  a gayer  frame 
of  mind  with  a more  obvious  joy  in  the  pictorial  possibilities 
of  the  scene,  we  find  the  lithographic  chalk  more  frequently 
indulging  in  the  entravagance  of  grotesque.  In  such  a 


Ibonore  Daumier 


17 


series  as  that  of  Les  Beaux  Jours  de  la  Vie,  that  of  Types 
Parisiens,  or  that  of  Voyage  en  Chine,  there  are  occasional 
noses,  mouths,  or  eyebrows  for  which  one  can  find  no  par- 
allel in  commonplace  experience.  Even  here,  however,  it  is 
possible  to  observe  one  after  another  of  the  drawings  with- 
out discovering  a type  that  is  not  as  familiar  as  the  street 
through  which  one  daily  passes.  An  astute  French  critic 
recently  has  pointed  out  that  Daumier  frequently  expressed 
his  ideal  by  showing  its  opposite,  that  he  emphasised  his  sense 
of  beauty  by  displaying  forms  of  ugliness  that  call  up  in 
contrast  a mental  vision  of  classic  charm;  that  he  empha- 
sised his  love  of  righteousness  by  holding  vice  up  to  ridicule ; 
his  love  of  integrity  by  setting  forth  the  vulgarity  of  de- 
ception, and  so  on.  This  adroit  analysis  is  certainly  quite 
justified  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  Daumier’s  passion  for  beauty 
is  plausibly  inferred  from  his  keen  eye  for  departures  from 
it  in  our  debased  human  physique.  I recall  a drawing  be- 
longing to  the  series  called  Histoire  Ancienne  in  which  le 
beau  Narcisse  is  kneeling  on  the  bank  of  a stream,  regarding 
with  delight  his  reflection  in  the  water.  The  scrawny 
limbs,  the  awkward  attitude,  the  large  bullet  head  crowned 
with  flowers,  contradict  all  the  features  attributed  to  the 
classic  conception.  The  figure  is  the  cleverest  of  parodies, 
and  has  the  hateful  quality  of  the  parody,  in  that  it  imposes 
itself  upon  the  original,  which  henceforth  we  can  see  only 
in  company  with  its  distorted  shadow.  Daumier  in  this 
instance  has  yielded  to  a temptation  altogether  rare  with 


IS 


Ibonore  2)aumier 


him.  He  has  brought  the  sordid  real  in  contrast  with  the 
imagined  ideal  without  displaying  the  aesthetic  possibilities 
of  the  former.  His  forms  are  cramped  and  his  light  and 
shade  are  distracted.  In  general,  however,  he  exhausts 
every  resource  of  reality  from  which  aesthetic  pleasure  may 
be  drawn,  and  his  opulent  supple  line  plays  gaily  over  the 
most  commonplace  subjects,  secure  in  its  power  to  extract 
from  them  homage  to  the  aesthetic  ideal. 

We  have  only  to  consider  such  a drawing  as  the  one 
entitled  U Odor  at  to  feel  the  full  effect  of  the  benignant 
point  of  view  from  which  he  regards  the  mere  material 
ugliness  of  the  physical  world.  An  old  peasant  is  leaning 
in  night-cap  and  dressing-gown  from  a bedroom  window  to 
sniff  the  fragrance  of  a pot  of  flowers  blooming  on  the  sill. 
The  homely  plebeian  head  thrust  out  from  the  darkness  of 
the  room  into  the  glow  of  the  summer  sunshine  and  modelled 
with  large  simplicity  and  freedom,  the  frame  of  common 
plants  putting  forth  bright  leaf  and  blossom  in  their  coarse 
clay  pots,  the  bird  in  his  wooden  cage,  the  pitcher  hanging 
against  the  wall,  making  charming  spots  of  decorative 
shadow,  the  rapturous  upturned  eyes,  the  clumsily  sensitive 
hand  spread  in  a caressing  gesture — these  supply  an  impres- 
sion that  epitomises  the  charm  of  humble  joys  simply  taken ; 
and  only  the  most  unimpressionable  intelligence  could  fail 
to  answer  to  both  the  sentimental  and  aesthetic  appeal.  The 
same  genial  tenderness  in  which  amusement  gleams  without 
sharpness  like  a warm  paternal  smile  is  seen  in  the  treat- 


Ibonore  Daumier 


J9 


ment  of  such  physiognomies  as  that  of  Le  Chasseur  Parisien, 
who  strolls  through  the  thicket,  his  gun  under  his  arm, 
placidly  reading,  while  birds  perch  undisturbed  on  every  side, 
a figure  of  vague  abstraction,  as  appealing  as  a gentle  child, 
or  that  of  the  illiterate  old  woman  leaning  on  her  broomstick 
and  gazing  skyward  while  her  neighbour  reads  to  her  from 
the  newspaper,  with  entire  misinterpretation,  the  reports 
of  her  son’s  ship.  Even  the  quaint  papas  and  mamas 
whose  unromantic  visages  are  echoed  in  the  features  of  their 
hideous  offspring  are  depicted  in  the  orthodox  enjoyment 
of  parental  emotion  with  a discernment  as  free  from  irony 
as  it  is  rich  in  philosophic  wisdom,  and  with  undisturbed 
attention  to  the  artistic  execution  of  the  task.  How 
lightly  the  artist’s  humour  ran  in  harness  with  his  sense 
of  the  beautiful  is  seen  in  perfection  in  his  drawing  of  a 
little  bas-bleu  seated  by  an  open  window  apostrophising  the 
moon.  She  wears  a scant  gown  and  pulls  at  her  under-lip 
with  a graceless  gesture,  her  large  coarse  hands  and  feet 
sprawling  irresponsibly  about;  her  common  features  and 
stupid  expression  proclaiming  her  the  type  of  the  preten- 
tious dullard.  The  incongruity  between  her  ideal  and  her 
actual  makes  an  irresistible  appeal  to  the  spirit  of  mirth. 
Yet  over  her  gaunt  frame  and  ugly  surroundings,  and 
over  her  foolish  face,  the  moonlight  pours  in  such  pale 
loveliness,  with  such  refining  charm,  that  the  scene  takes 
on  an  aspect  independent  of  the  satiric  message  it  conveys. 
It  becomes  merely  a drama  in  light  and  shade,  and  the 


20 


Ibonore  Daumier 


bas-bleu  falls  in  with  the  general  enchanting  effect  as  though 
she  were  one  of  the  grimacing  gargoyles  on  a Gothic  Cathe- 
dral seen  beneath  the  same  fair  moon.  It  is  by  such  sur- 
render to  the  spirit  of  beauty  that  Daumier  continually 
wins  us  whether  he  amuses  or  fails  to  amuse. 

Nevertheless,  if  in  our  appreciation  of  his  sunny  good- 
nature and  of  his  readiness  to  clothe  a ridiculous  situation 
with  all  the  charm  of  which  his  art  is  capable,  we  are 
oblivious  of  his  well-defined  intellectual  attitude  toward  the 
small  people  of  the  world,  we  shall  go  far  out  of  our  path. 
His  studies  of  bourgeois  homes  and  bourgeois  characters 
show  clearly  enough  his  detachment  from  their  limited  views 
and  egoistic  interests.  The  petty  domain  of  a family  with- 
out large  ambitions  or  general  ideas,  without  standards  or 
measures  of  value,  becomes  under  his  scrutiny  a laughable 
and  also  a more  or  less  contemptible  affair.  He  shows  us 
with  remorseless  implication  the  complacency  of  mediocre 
citizens  with  their  property,  their  pride  in  their  stupid 
children,  their  satisfaction  in  their  little  fetes  and  little 
occupations,  their  willingness  to  let  the  personal  horizon 
everywhere  shut  out  the  wider  view.  In  one  of  the  litho- 
graphs which  we  reproduce  a crowd  of  these  good  dull 
people  are  looking  at  the  blossom  of  a night-blooming 
cereus,  the  extraordinary  attributes  of  which  are  loudly 
proclaimed  to  them  by  a showman.  In  the  craning  heads, 
in  the  gaping  mouths,  in  the  vacant  eyes,  in  the  forced 
self-conscious  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  group  we 


1bonor£  2)aumier 


21 


read  without  difficulty  how  superficial  their  sentiment  is, 
how  largely  composed  of  a vulgar  curiosity  and  desire 
merely  to  plume  themselves  upon  having  seen  something 
that  all  the  world  does  not  see  every  day.  For  shams,  in- 
nocent as  they  may  be,  Daumier  has  nothing  but  a scathing 
comment.  His  honest  pencil  unveils  the  foolish  pretence 
and  by  the  simple  act  seems  to  place  the  artist  on  that  high 
plane  of  mental  aristocracy  where  to  be  consciously  superior 
or  consciously  exclusive  is  to  be  an  alien.  He  is  conspicu- 
ously an  example  of  the  attitude  toward  the  bourgeoisie 
pointed  out  by  Professor  Wendell  as  characteristic  of  the 
French  artist  in  any  kind.  Bourgeois  himself  in  origin, 
he  is  also  Bohemian  and  critical  in  temper  of  bourgeois 
manners  and  sentiments  and  of  bourgeois  limitations.  He 
touches  them,  however,  on  their  superficial  side.  The 
core  of  bourgeois  virtue  he  treats  with  respect; — that  is  to 
say,  he  leaves  it  alone.  But  there  are  few  of  the  mannerisms 
common  to  the  undiscriminating  mind  that  he  allows  to 
escape  him;  and  it  is  in  the  portrayal  of  these  that  his  mirth 
is  most  genial.  Unceasingly  severe  with  the  counterfeit 
of  real  emotion,  sentiment,  or  interest,  he  is  gaily  responsive 
to  the  minor  joys  of  life  as  they  come  to  the  sober  middle 
class.  When  we  look  at  such  a drawing  as  that  bearing  the 
legend:  “C’est  demain  la  fete  de  sa  femme”  (“  To-morrow 
is  his  wife’s  birthday  ”)  it  is  easy  to  fancy  the  artist  with  his 
kind  eyes  and  smiling  mouth,  strolling  behind  the  devoted 
old  husband  who  bends  beneath  the  burden  of  floral  decora- 


22 


Ibonore  Daumier 


tion  which  he  carries  home  for  the  great  day,  unconscious 
of  the  comment  of  the  world  outside  his  own.  We  seem  to 
note  that  Daumier  saw  first  the  humble  figure  carrying  a 
couple  of  pots  of  flowering  plants,  that  he  thought  to  him- 
self, “Now,  who  but  a bon  bourgeois  would  go  through  the 
streets  like  that.  Of  course  they  are  for  his  wife — happy 
lady — it  doubtless  is  her  birthday,”  that  swiftly  his  pre- 
hensile vision  added  another  flower-pot  to  the  load  and 
hung  a napkin  full  of  cut  flowers  to  the  weary  arm,  that 
in  his  mind’s  eye  he  saw  the  figure  adapt  its  attitude  to 
the  heavier  weight,  and  the  picture  was  made,  ready  to  be 
transferred  to  the  page  with  just  that  little  accent  of  excess 
that  differentiates  it  from  the  scene  as  it  appeared  to  every 
passer-by,  and  just  that  sweet  sobriety  of  greys  and  soft 
blacks  that  makes  the  harmony  in  colour  values  appro- 
priate to  the  sentiment  inherent  in  the  scene. 

Kindred  to  this  drawing  in  mildness  of  humour  and 
suavity  of  execution  are  such  others  as  The  Morning  Pipe, 
where  the  very  atmosphere  of  placid  dreams  is  evoked  by 
the  beautiful  greys  and  whites  through  which  the  old  smoker 
in  night-cap  and  night-shirt,  bolstered  comfortably  against 
his  pillows,  is  made  an  object  of  aesthetic  charm;  the  lovely 
drawing  of  an  old  bourgeois  couple  wandering  homeward 
under  a star-strewn  sky  to  which  they  turn  their  vague  fat 
faces  with  a sense  of  the  scene’s  solemnity;  the  one  entitled 
U Anniversaire  du  Manage  in  which  M.  and  Mme.  Coquelicot, 
with  minds  long  attuned  to  material  satisfactions,  propose 


Ibonore  Daumier 


23 


to  celebrate  their  thirty-first  wedding  anniversary  by  con- 
suming a delicious  turtle  pie;  that  depicting  the  joy  of  one 
of  the  readers  of  Charivari  in  unravelling  a rebus  published 
therein,  the  victor  hastening  home  to  share  his  triumph  with 
his  wife— all  these  and  many  others  have  the  quality  of 
gentleness,  they  resemble  a kind  of  pleasant  gossip  between 
people  of  shrewd  observation  upon  the  subject  of  their 
neighbour’s  activities.  Not  a touch  of  bitterness  lurks  in 
the  free  comment,  and  we  like  the  people  themselves  the 
better  for  the  light  thus  thrown  upon  them.  The  satire 
in  them,  if  satire  is  the  name  for  mere  notation  of  human 
traits,  is  conveved  with  the  utmost  subtletv  without  that 
resource  to  the  obvious  which  is  the  characteristic  defect 
of  a low  order  of  intelligence. 

Daumier  is  not  always  so  deft  of  thought.  In  his  daily 
supply  of  a daily  demand  for  mirth-provoking  art  he 
occasionally  falls  back  upon  the  hackneyed  shock  to  the 
sensibilities  given  by  the  unexpected  or  the  violently  in- 
congruous. One  of  the  series  entitled  Emotions  Parisiennes 
(Parisian  Sensations)  shows  a wrathful  passer-by  upon 
whose  head  pots  of  flowers  have  fallen  from  a window-sill 
above.  The  legend,  which  may  or  may  not  have  been 
Daumier’s  own,  reads:  “Life’s  road  should  be  strewn  with 
flowers.”  Another  of  the  same  series  presents  to  our  sym- 
pathies another  unfortunate  pedestrian  struck  in  the  face 
by  a great  door  or  shutter  which  a workman  is  carrying. 
The  legend — “Ah!  Excusez” — is  refreshingly  brief  and 


24 


lbonor£  Daumier 


to  the  point  after  the  many  tedious  ones  with  which  Dau- 
mier’s collaborators  have  provided  his  synthetic  drawings. 

Another  depicts  a “bon  bourgeois”  leaning  out  of  his 
window  to  enjoy  the  summer  breeze,  and  receiving  upon 
his  head  the  water  from  a window  garden  too  copiously 
sprinkled  by  his  neighbour  on  the  floor  above.  Still  another 
shows  us  a crouching  figure  overwhelmed  by  snow  that  has 
been  shovelled  upon  it  from  the  roofs,  the  sudden  dip  of 
the  shoulders  under  the  unexpected  onslaught  having  a 
realism  of  movement  such  as  only  Daumier  has  succeeded 
in  uniting  to  the  “grand  style.” 

These  rather  crude  attacks  upon  our  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
serve  chiefly,  however,  to  mark  the  delicacies  of  others: — 
the  private  little  shrug  of  cynicism,  for  example,  that 
makes  itself  felt  through  the  artist’s  comments  upon  the 
humdrum  economies  that  pass  before  him.  That  “beau 
jour”  upon  which,  according  to  the  legend,  “il  faut  se 
montrer  galant”  is  one  of  mingled  sweet  and  bitter  for  the 
absurd  old  gentleman  too  long  unaccustomed  to  altruistic 
expenditure  to  meet  courageously  the  demand  for  ten 
francs.  He  stands  fingering  the  flowers  at  a stall,  exclaiming 
in  horror  at  their  price.  His  coat  of  some  antiquity,  his 
features  concentrated  in  painful  calculation,  the  cool  scorn 
of  the  hard-faced  little  flower  vendor,  the  stiff  propriety 
of  the  Parisian  bouquets,  the  fine  sun-besprinkled  air  of 
the  handsome  town  circulating  cheerfully  through  the  soft 
shadows  and  luminous  half-tones — what  a real  scene  it  is, 


1bonor£  Daumier 


25 


how  free  from  factitious  feeling,  how  contemporary  and 
definite,  how  charged  with  essential  significance,  and  how 
profound  in  its  casual  criticism  of  human  nature! 

And  in  his  light  commentary  on  the  terrors  of  weak  souls 
to  whom  life  is  a panorama  of  dangers  in  ambush,  how 
pleasantly  his  humour  twinkles  over  the  situation  without 
pouring  upon  it  too  harsh  a light!  The  frenzy  of  the  wife 
plucking  at  her  husband’s  coat  as  he  looks  down  with 
alarming  temerity  upon  a passing  railroad  train  may  have 
a certain  surplusage  of  intensity;  but  what  could  be  more 
completely  within  the  boundaries  of  the  natural  than  the 
expression  of  the  nervous  man  who  finally  selects  the  coach 
he  will  travel  in  as  he  would  cast  a die  at  a gaming  table, 
with  a desperate  dependence  upon  luck;  or  the  haunted 
look  of  the  little  party  of  excursionists  upon  whom  it  has 
dawned  that  no  accident  has  occurred  upon  the  road  for  a 
number  of  days  and  the  time  of  immunity  must  be  drawing 
to  an  end;  or  the  prophetic  glare  of  the  alarmist  who  knows 
there  is  to  be  a famine  because  his  cook  reports  a rise  in 
the  price  of  whiting?  Too  comfortable  in  aspect  to  awaken 
pity,  these  honest,  solemn  sufferers  at  once  appeal  to  our 
liking — we  must  love  what  so  much  amuses  us. 

Not  infrequently  Daumier  resorts  to  the  expedient  of  the 
expert  moralist  and  sets  down  strongly  contrasting  types 
as  he  finds  them  without  the  slightest  attempt  at  emphasis- 
ing their  differences,  leaving  us  to  divine  for  oiirselves  the 
conclusions  indicated.  Thus  in  the  little  drawing  called 


26 


Ibonore  Daumier 


Ouvrier  et  Bourgeois  (“Workman  and  Bourgeois”)  of  the 
series  Les  Pansiens  en  1848 — a drawing  in  which  the  secrets 
of  the  great  masters  are  held  by  the  modelled  line  and  the 
serene  architectonic  composition  that  makes  one  think  of 
temples  and  arches  and  classic  vistas  while  noting  the  vitality 
of  the  contemporary  figures — in  this  opposition  of  the  work- 
man walking  the  street  absorbed  in  the  columns  of  his 
newspaper  where  must  be  recorded  the  stirring  events  of 
the  revolution,  to  the  stout  gourmand  equally  absorbed  in 
the  display  of  luscious  gustibles  offered  by  a shop  window, 
we  have  the  simplest  of  sermons,  the  application  of  which 
is  insisted  upon  only  so  far  as  the  observer  himself  may 
choose  to  press  the  question. 

And  in  the  charming  composition — so  amusing,  so  tender, 
so  delicate — entitled  Lc  Dimanche  au  Jardin  des  Plantes , 
the  “note”  of  reticence  is  even  more  admirably  preserved, 
as  though  the  artist  after  placing  the  little  scene  before  us 
with  his  most  ingratiating  manner,  drew  back  from  it  and 
said,  “ Now,  let  us  find  out  what  your  powers  of  observation 
may  be,  dear  public  to  whom  I dedicate  mine.”  Not  that 
extraordinary  powers  are  needed  to  discern  the  variations 
of  type,  once  they  are  impressed  upon  the  vision,  but  that 
the  silvery  tone  enveloping  the  drawing  holds  so  closely 
together  the  discriminated  values,  that  the  lines  flow  so 
quietly  in  one  general  direction,  that  the  little  procession 
moves  along  the  sunlit  path  with  a harmony  upon  which 
no  sharp  differentiation  strikes  discordantly,  until  the 


Ibonorc  Daumier 


mind  is  cheated  by  the  charmed  eyes  and  the  significance 
becomes  clear  only  after  a distinct  intellectual  effort.  Then 
we  see  how  the  distinguished  elderly  man  who  advances  with 
a subtle  elegance  of  walk  and  bearing  is  faintly  echoed  by 
the  figure  at  his  left  whose  battered  finery  and  sharp  features 
are  thus  thrown  into  more  eloquent  contrast  with  the  bland 
dignity  of  his  neighbour.  And  passing  by  this  quiet  grada- 
tion to  extremes  of  incongruity,  we  compare  the  fragile, 
aristocratic  features  of  the  little  old  lady,  clinging  to  the 
arm  of  her  companion,  her  eyes  demurely  bent,  her  lips 
modelled  to  a line  of  discreet  reserve,  her  figure  shrunken 
with  years  keeping  its  delicate  elasticity,  with  the  vulgar 
woman  also  clinging  to  her  husband’s  arm  but  turning  to 
gaze  open-mouthed  at  the  animals  within  the  enclosure. 
The  rude  features,  the  flat  foot,  the  short  skirt  showing  loose 
stockings  wrinkled  upon  heavy  ankles,  the  indifferent  hand 
clasped  over  that  of  the  ugly  little  child  who  is  pulled  along 
by  her  side,  the  coarse  outline  all  speak  of  that  absence  of 
intentional  refinement,  that  ignorance  of  preconsidered 
daintiness,  that  disregard  of  particular  detail  which  mark 
the  plebeian  standard  of  personal  appearance. 

This  instruction  by  suggestion  in  the  values  of  the  social 
order  betrays  upon  Daumier’s  part  a finer  instinct  for  social 
relations  than  that  with  which  he  commonly  is  credited. 
Bourgeois  and  Bohemian — so  far  as  the  latter  is  the  inev- 
itable state  of  the  Frencli  artist — he  may  have  been,  but 
he  was  also  to  a degree  patrician  in  his  ultimate  criticisms. 


28 


Ibonore  E)aumier 


Without  the  taste  for  languid  figures  that  gives  to  Ga- 
varni’s  subjects  a look  of  physical  elegance,  he  separates 
with  greater  precision  the  qualities  that  depend  upon 
external  and  those  that  depend  upon  inner  delicacy. 
The  democratic  tendency  which  inspired  his  love  of 
liberty  and  his  scorn  of  those  who  assailed  it  openly 
or  in  secret  was  a deep-rooted  sentiment,  too  vital  and 
too  intense  to  satisfy  itself  with  the  affectation  of  freedom 
implied  by  unrestrained  manners.  While  for  the  most 
part  he  follows  the  tendency  analysed  by  M.  Gaultier 
and  displays  his  appreciation  of  the  mellifluous  charm 
clinging  to  a social  order  founded  upon  high  traditions  and 
guarded  seclusion  by  revealing  the  shuffle  and  clatter  of  a 
too  democratic  publicity,  he  is  capable,  as  we  see  in  the 
drawing  just  described,  of  penetrating  the  very  temple  of 
aristocracy  and  making  its  stillness,  its  exclusiveness,  its 
fastidious  felicity,  apparent,  without  changing  his  own  style 
for  pitch  of  expressiveness,  with  a quietness  equal  to  that 
of  his  subject  and,  too,  with  a feeling  for  the  exquisite 
unsurpassed  by  any  of  his  contemporaries. 

When  we  turn  to  the  subjects  drawn  from  his  own  pro- 
fession, it  is  interesting  to  note  how  his  comic  spirit  sharpens. 
The  air  of  good  nature  that  softens  the  most  caustic  of  his 
comments  upon  the  world  without  drops  as  he  enters  his 
own  domain.  He  unveils  with  a quite  ferocious  glee  the 
pretentiousness  of  ignorant  amateurs  and  casual  buyers, 
and  the  stupidity  of  the  vast  public  who  throng  the 


1bonor£  2>aumier 


29 


picture  galleries.  He  depicts  a sale  at  the  Hotel  Drouot 
with  a crowd  of  eager  bidders  wisely  inspecting  an  un- 
decipherable canvas;  he  reproduces  the  flattered  coun- 
tenances of  bons  bourgeois  who  behold  themselves  in  effigy 
on  the  walls  of  the  salon  and  feel  their  money  to  have  been 
well  spent,  the  shrewder  features  of  the  patron  who  buys 
a second-hand  portrait  to  have  it  touched  up  into  his  own 
likeness  at  a reduced  rate,  the  haughty  expression  of  the 
influential  critic  who  passes  through  the  galleries,  note- 
book in  hand,  the  indignant  gesture  of  the  Philistine  who 
cannot  be  forced  to  admire  a picture  by  Courbet.  The 
logical  visitor  to  exhibitions  who  wishes  to  know  why  the 
woman  in  Manet’s  picture  of  the  year  is  called  Olympia,  and 
decides  that  it  is  the  cat  that  bears  the  name;  the  conscien- 
tious visitor  who  discovers  merits  in  dubious  canvases  by 
the  aid  of  a magnifying-glass;  the  ardent  lover  of  art  who 
turns  hastily  away  from  the  entrance  door  of  the  exhibition 
on  finding  that  he  has  hit  upon  a pay-day;  the  self-sufficient 
visitor  who  finds  fault  with  composition  and  colour  with  an 
air  of  authority — these  appear  in  his  lithographs  clearly 
and  coldly  defined.  On  the  other  hand  he  is  not  less  ready 
to  put  before  us  the  painter  who  allows  himself  to  take 
pleasure  in  ignorant  praise,  the  painter  who  is  content  to 
copy  fellow-artists  in  place  of  nature,  and  the  one  who 
panders  to  the  vanity  of  his  sitter. 

It  would  be  plausible  to  say,  in  spite  of  the  instances 
noted  of  subtle  characterisation  and  refined  implication, 


30 


1bonor£  Baumier 


that  the  examples  of  Daumier’s  art,  chosen  almost  at 
random  from  the  four  thousand  or  so  described  in  the 
catalogue,  show,  after  all,  as  a whole,  no  supremely 
original  vision,  that  the  morals  are  for  the  most  part 
commonplace,  and  that  the  wit  is  obvious.  They  are 
made,  it  is  easy  to  see,  for  the  every-day  public.  They 
represent  familiar  scenes  and  figures  in  a way  to  claim  im- 
mediate recognition  if  not  immediately  to  convey  their 
intellectual  message, — that  is  the  sine  qua  non  of  the  cari- 
caturist’s trade.  Even  if  they  have  the  subtlety  of  feeling 
that  is  claimed  for  them  they  have  a bluntness  and  com- 
pleteness of  expression  that  contrasts  sharply  with  the  ab- 
stract outline  of  a Caran  d’Ache.  They  come  into  the 
presence  of  more  modern  caricature  as  the  burly  form  of  an 
elderly  farmer  might  enter  a dapper  society  of  some  one  of 
the  great  cities  of  the  world.  They  have  about  them  an 
atmosphere  of  incorrigible  innocence  and  solid  worth  that 
is  not  of  modernity  or  for  that  matter  of  any  time  or  place, 
that  is  purely  an  individual  envelope.  For  the  most  part 
they  are  jovial  and  outspoken,  they  have  mental  energy 
and  a spontaneous  exuberance.  They  are  not  mysterious 
or  alluring.  They  are  oftener  gay  than  sad.  They  are 
always  agreeably  confidential,  taking  the  observer  into  their 
secret  at  once  and  assuring  him  that  he  knows  all  there  is 
to  know.  But  they  are  nevertheless,  like  Joey  Bagstock, 
sly — deep  and  sly  in  their  wealth  of  reserve  quality.  They 
wear  their  plainness  on  their  sleeve,  resembling  some  old 


Ibonore  Daumier 


31 


miser  who  goes  about  in  homespun  with  a pot  full  of  gold 
in  his  cellar.  They  are  perfectly  exemplified  in  the  story 
told  of  Daumier  himself  by  Champfleury,  who  says  that 
he  once  passed  an  entire  night  with  a body  of  national 
guards  who  failed  to  have  the  least  suspicion  that  their 
companion  was  a dangerous  observer  upon  whom  nothing 
was  lost.  Beneath  the  bonhomie  of  his  large,  free  style, 
his  magnificent  simplicity,  are  hidden  treasures  of  observa- 
tion for  the  assiduous  student  who  frequents  the  lithographs 
in  a sympathetic  mood.  Their  scope  is  almost  that  of  the 
human  comedy;  intimate  scenes  of  home  life  classified,  as 
Mazurs  Conjugales,  Les  Papas,  Scenes  de  Famillc , Scenes 
Conjugates,  etc.;  scenes  of  Bohemian  Paris,  of  bourgeois 
Paris,  of  political  Paris,  scenes  of  the  changing  seasons  with 
their  various  occupations  and  amusements,  of  passing  social 
phases,  of  financial  situations  legitimate  and  fantastic; 
quaint  criticisms  on  administrative  manners,  such  as  are 
grouped  under  the  title  Le  Voyage  en  Chine,  studies  of  the 
stage  and  of  the  studios,  portraits  of  judges  and  barristers, 
of  strong-minded  women,  of  musicians  and  butchers,  of 
philanthropists  and  tyrants,  of  soldiers  and  huntsmen, 
householders  and  servants.  The  principal  phase  omitted 
is  that  of  the  ballroom.  Among  the  two  or  three  hundred 
of  Daumier’s  works  that  I have  seen  I recall  but  one  that 
leads  even  to  the  door  of  a fashionable  entertainment.  This 
one  commemorates  the  announcement  of  a newly  ennobled 
personage  by  the  servant,  as  “M.  le  Ba-aron  Bois-flottd” 


32 


Ibonore  Daumier 


His  society  passes  its  time  chiefly  out-of-doors,  in  the  public 
parks,  and  on  the  city  streets,  or  in  the  living-rooms  of 
simple  homes  in  which  behaviour  is  marked  by  great  regu- 
larity. Indiscretions  of  conduct  form  but  a small  part  of 
his  baggage  as  a chronicler  of  the  passing  show.  He  por- 
trays family  life  largely  on  the  side  of  its  devotions,  and  by 
his  merciless  rendering  of  the  infant  physiognomy  he  appears 
to  assure  us  that  no  child  exists  too  unattractive  to  win 
the  fatuous  commendation  of  its  parents.  His  fathers,  in 
particular,  sacrifice  to  their  offspring.  When  he  shows  us 
the  night  on  which  the  child  is  wakeful  (“une  nuit  agitee”) 
the  father  is  seen  kneeling  before  the  fire  warming  flannels 
for  it;  he  shows  us  many  times  over  the  father  who  instructs 
his  son  in  the  art  of  swimming,  one  delightful  plate  in  par- 
ticular, in  which  the  artist  has  given  rein  to  his  love  of  things 
as  they  are,  is  that  portraying  with  unsparing  realism  the 
child  clinging  crab-like  to  the  father’s  neck  and  distorting 
his  features  by  howls  of  terror.  There  are  other  scenes  in 
which  similar  swimming  lessons  go  more  smoothly;  he 
shows  us  the  father  who  escorts  his  children  home  from  their 
school  on  the  day  of  the  distribution  of  prizes,  the  children 
wearing  crowns  of  flowers  and  decorations,  the  father  alone 
without  award  of  merit.  “ This  really  is  unfair,”  the  legend 
affirms.  He  shows  us  the  father  who  enhausts  his  lungs 
blowing  the  fleet  of  his  infant  son  to  sea;  the  father  who 
jumps  rope  with  his  son  and  daughter;  the  one  who  plays 
horse.  He  shows  us  fathers  and  mothers  together  reflecting 


Ibonore  Daumier 


33 


with  delight  upon  the  superiority  of  their  little  ones  who 
gaze  out  at  us  with  innocently  afflicting  faces.  He  shows 
us  the  fine  deeds  of  these  little  ones  who  compose  poetry 
for  the  birthday  of  Papa,  who  suck  barley  sugar-sticks 
“with  such  an  air,”  who  walk  with  a style  that  forecasts 
important  careers  for  them.  All  this  without  the  slightest 
indication  of  ill-feeling  toward  the  little  men  and  women  who 
lend  themselves  so  obligingly  to  a rollicking  pencil.  In  the 
plate  belonging  to  the  series  Locataires  ct  Proprietaries 
(“Landladies  and  Tenants”)  where  the  mother,  holding  by 
the  hand  a meek-faced  boy  of  three  or  four  years,  endeavours 
to  obtain  rooms  from  an  old  woman  surrounded  by  animals 
who  replies,  “I  do  not  let  to  people  with  children,”  the 
opposite  point  of  view  is  sufficiently  implied. 

As  one  follows  Daumier’s  work  with  reference  to  its 
artistic  development,  from  his  early  and  feeble  drawings 
through  the  magisterial  portraits  of  Louis  Philippe’s  reign 
to  the  more  varied  record  of  passing  events  and  social  types, 
one  perceives  a steady  growth  of  the  quality  least  often 
found  in  connection  with  a monumental  style — the  sense  of 
movement.  In  all  the  later  lithographs  nothing  is  more 
salient  than  this.  The  energy  of  motion  is  in  every  line 
of  the  men  and  women  and  children,  of  the  dogs  and  cats 
and  horses — nothing  is  fixed  or  posed,  everything  is  ready 
to  shift  and  change  as  in  a Japanese  drawing  of  the  Ukiyo-ye 
school.  In  the  later  work,  too,  there  is  a closer  relation  than 
in  the  earlier  between  the  shadows  or  lights  and  the  middle 


3 


34 


Ibonore  Daumier 


tones.  The  whites  are  not  less  white — Daumier  has  to  the 
end  a fondness  for  broad  patches  of  the  pure  unsullied  ground 
of  white  paper  which  gleams  in  a shirt-front,  a night-cap, 
a blouse,  a table-cloth,  an  apron,  or  a broad  stretch  of 
blank  wall;  but  the  greys  are  higher  in  key  as  they  approach 
the  highest  light  and  where  the  proportion  of  dark  is  greatest 
in  a drawing  there  is  more  of  the  low-toned  grey,  so  that  the 
forms  are  relieved  with  less  violence  against  their  back- 
ground. In  the  modelling  of  flesh  there  is  a finer  sense  of 
the  variations  of  surface,  the  local  colour  of  different  parts 
of  the  face  also  receives  a singularly  exact  translation  into 
terms  of  black  and  white;  the  texture  of  fabrics,  of  glass 
and  wood,  of  hair  and  fur,  are  differentiated  with  a closer 
precision,  and  especially  the  envelope  of  air  becomes  more 
pervasively  felt.  In  a word,  as  Daumier  continued  practis- 
ing his  art  with  the  spontaneity  and  freedom  required  of 
a contributor  to  the  daily  press  he  became  more  and  more 
an  artist — the  world  appealed  to  him  more  and  more  on  its 
purely  pictorial  side.  During  the  decade  between  1849 
and  i860  he  seems,  according  to  M.  Delteil,  to  have  lan- 
guished somewhat  at  his  task,  executing  his  drawings  of 
that  period  with  a too  summary  method,  and  showing  a 
certain  lack  of  the  intensity  of  interest  always  previously 
to  be  found  in  his  work,  of  however  slight  a character  it 
might  be.  In  i860,  according  to  the  current  tradition,  he 
decided  to  quit  Charivari  and  abandon  lithography  for 
painting;  but  according  to  a statement  made  by  Philippe 


Ibonore  S>aumier 


35 


Burtv  and  transcribed  by  M.  Delteil,  he  became  at  this 
time  unpopular  with  the  magazines  which  formerly  had 
relied  upon  his  support  and  Charivari  declined  to  renew  its 
contract  with  him.  Whatever  the  exact  cause,  he  did  at 
this  period  turn  to  painting  and  produced  water-colours 
and  oils  as  remarkable  in  their  kind  as  his  drawings  in 
theirs.  I have  seen  the  originals  of  only  a few  of  these 
paintings,  but  the  ones  owned  by  Mr.  Cyrus  J.  Lawrence 
of  New  York,  Sir  William  van  Home  of  Montreal,  and  Mr. 
John  G.  Johnson  of  Philadelphia  are  of  an  authority,  a 
homogeneity,  and  an  amplitude  of  style  sufficient  to  prove 
his  place  among  the  masters  of  painting.  The  more  we 
study  him  the  more  we  realise  that  his  simplicity  of  work- 
manship is  made  up  of  many  contributions  from  sources 
of  great  variety;  his  simplicity  of  character  is  perhaps  the 
unifying  element  that  made  even  his  rich  perception  of  the 
incongruous  a beneficent  tool  in  his  hands  rather  than  a 
destructive  weapon. 


M.  Prune 


(37) 


Robert-Maeaire,  a Banker  after  the  Style  of  the  Turks; 

“The  news  cannot  be  known  at  Bordeaux;  take  the  post,  ride  ten 
horses  to  death,  arrive  ahead  of  everyone,  sell  short  and  we  shall 
realize  at  least  a million.  I,  meanwhile,  will  go  to  the  palace;  we  are  con- 
demning this  morning  a scamp  who  stole  ten  francs, — ten  francs! — 
the  b-b-blackguard!  ” 


(39) 


The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

A Delicate  Attention. 

“ How  do  you  like  this  shawl,  my  dear  ? I chose  it  myself.  ” 

“Charming,  lovely,  but  I had  no  need  of  that  to  love  you,  dear 
Edward!  ” 


(41) 


‘‘Sorry,  my  good  woman,  but  I don’t  carry  dogs  in  my  ‘bus. 
“Aristocrat,  begone!” 


(43) 


JMMlSSl 


1 S 

yitjPj 

H*  rj 

iBHis 

W, 

Robert-Macaire,  Commission- Agent 
“How  the  devil  is  this,  Sir,  you  say  you  pay  only  on  Saturdays,  and 
this  is  the  third  Saturday  that  I have  come  for  a bill  of  nine  francs,  fifty 
centimes,  and  I am  never  able  to  get  it!  ” 

“You  come  too  early,  the  bank  is  not  open  till  three  o’clock.” 
“Very  well!  It  is  a quarter  past  three  now.  ” 

“It  is  too  late,  the  bank  closes  at  precisely  three  o’clock.  Deuce  take 
it,  my  dear  Sir,  it  is  all  your  own  fault,  you  should  be  exact — come  on  the 
hour.  ” 


(45) 


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“Yes,  my  pet,  it  is  more  than  three  weeks  since  this  poor  dear  man 
has  swallowed  a mouthful.  I have  just  made  him  a good  little  cabbage 
soup  with  the  lard  gravy  which  he  likes  so  much  and  some  potatoes; 
those  doctors  would  soon  have  him  dead  of  hunger  with  their  dieting.  ” 


(47) 


Parisian  Types 

“Don’t  say  a word,  I have  such  a cold  in  the  head  that  I can’t  see 
out  of  my  eyes,  my  dear!’  ’ 


(49) 


Parisian  Types. 

“ You  reason  like  a sugar-cane!  ” 
“And  you  like  a beet!  ’’ 


(51) 


“See  him  strut  with  such  a style — you ’d  swear  he  was  an  officer  of  the 
artillery,  and  that  he  was  cut  out  for  a great  lawyer  or  powerful  business 
man.  ” — ( Conjugal  Habits.) 


(53) 


Silhouettes. 

The  Care-Taker. 

So  called,  by  antithesis,  because  she  neither  takes  care  of  the  furniture, 
nor  of  the  china,  nor  of  the  wine  of  her  employers. 


(55) 


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Bohemians  of  Paris 


The  Marauder 

Mr.  Minet,  general  contractor  for  Parisian  rabbit-stews  (Dinners  foi 

32  sous) 

“Come — come — come — come  along  my  rabbit!” 


(57) 


Parisian  Types. 

The  annoyance  of  talking  with  people  who  have  a mania  for  putting 
their  words  into  action:  “ Yes,  my  dear  sir,  would  you  believe  that  the 
b-blackguard  permitted  himself  to  laugh  in  my  face?  You  know  that 
I have  not  a temper  that  will  stand  everything.  So  I clutched  him — so — 
and  shook  him — so — vigorously!” 


(59) 


' 


■ 


Bohemians  of  Paris. 

The  Sick-Nurse. 

“There  is  no  one  like  the  fruiterers  to  get  you  nice  cases.  An  epileptic 
and  hydrophobic  patient  and  one  lunatic.  Now  if  the  grocer  gets  the 
consumptive  he  promised  I shall  be  well  fixed.  ” 


(61) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

Subscribers  trying  to  read  their  papers. 


(63) 


The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

The  Illustrated  Rebus. 

“ Singular!  I cannot  guess  the  rebus  in  to-day’s  Charivari  ! ” 

I think  I have  one  word — I have  several  words — I have  it  all — I am 
going  home  to  tell  my  wife  ! ” 


(65) 


“Monsieur  is  a great  thief?  That’s  all  right.  I hope  to  correct  that 
with  the  aid  of  my  system.  It  is  impossible  to  reform  a man  if  one  does 
not  pay  the  greatest  attention  to  his  protuberances.  Everything  depends 
on  that.  ” 

“ Say,  then,  there  is  a famous  one  on  the  cheek.  ” 

(The  Prisoner)  “Pay  no  attention  to  that,  gentlemen, — it’s  a chaw  of  tobacco. 

(67) 


The  Philanthropists  of  To-Day. 

Monsieur  Mimi  Coquet,  milliner  and  philanthropist,  in  order  to  save 
young  girls  the  dangers  they  might  run  in  carrying  a hat-box  on  the 
sidewalk,  discharges  them. 


(69) 


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The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

A Nomination. 

“Tell  me,  Sir, — are  you  nominated  at  last?” 

“Yes,  ‘Supernumerary  Aspirant’ — and  I am  informed  that  there  are 
only  eighty-seven  ahead  of  me.  ” 


(71) 


Friends. 

A friend  is  a crocodile  given  to  us  by  civilization. 

(73) 


The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

A Visit  to  the  Studio. 

"I  am  going  to  send  it  at  once  to  the  Louvre — I think  it  will  make 
something  of  an  impression!” 

‘‘It  is  cha-a-aming — it  is  cha-a-aming!  ” 

(75) 


The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

A New  Member  of  the  Nobility. 

(The  servant,  announcing)  “The  Ba-aron  Driftwood!” 


(77) 


The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

The  Wedding  Anniversary. 

“ It  is  actually  thirty-one  years  ago  to-day,  Monsieur  Coquelet  ! ” 

“ True!  We  must  celebrate  this  memorable  day.  Let  us  go  eat  a 
turtle-pie  with  force-meat.  ” 


(79) 


The  Red-Letter  Days  of  Life. 

Carnival  Time. 

“Let  us  go  laugh  and  caper!  I shall  be  disguised  as  a clever  rogue. 
“Fine!  No  one  will  recognize  you!  ” 

(81) 


The  Instructor: 

“Your  son  does  me  honour! — he  is  a charming  subject! 


(83) 


The  Papas. 

“Ah!  sir,  don’t  laugh  like  that,  you  will  make  him  cry! 


(85) 


When  one  has  bad  luck — 
“The  deuce!  Full!” 

(87) 


“I  present  to  you  my  son  Thdodule,  just  out  of  college  and  already 
with  a crowd  of  victims — all  the  young  ladies  wish  to  marry  him.  ” 

"The  scamp! — he  takes  after  his  father!  ” 


(89) 


Travels  in  China. 

A Milliner’s  Shop. 

One  fine  day  a crowd  of  young  women  in  China  took  it  into  their 
heads  to  claim  the  rights  of  man,  and  immediately  a number  of  men 
profited  by  the  occasion  to  usurp  the  occupations  of  women.  In  the 
Imperial  Capital,  especially;  only  male  shirtwaist-makers,  dress-makers, 
milliners,  etc.,  etc.,  are  seen  at  Pekin,  where  already  people  are  somewhat 
accustomed  to  these  ways  and  to  these  rude  faces,  but  foreigners  who 
enter  these  curious  shops  cannot  help  exclaiming:  “Ah!  what  queer 
creatures  Chinamen  are!” 


(91) 


The  Universal  Exposition. 

View  of  the  Exposition  at  three  p.m.  on  a sunny  day;  86  degrees  in  the 
shade ! 


(93) 


The  Universal  Exposition. 

Fabrics  that  are  positively  waterproof. 


(95) 


Opening  of  the  Hunt. 

A Parisian  who  is  not  accustomed  to  encounter  wild  animals. 


(97) 


Events  of  the  Day 

“ Polichinelle,  Polichinelle, — you  have  cudgelled  others  long  enough — 
it’ s your  turn  now — you  are  going  to  be  taught  reason.  ” 


(99) 


The  Universal  Exposition. 
The  Department  of  Clocks. 


(101) 


The  Railways. 

“They  go  at  an  infernal  rate  with  their  devilish  engines — when  will 
a benefactor  of  humanity  arrive  to  reinvent  the  stage  coach!” 


(103) 


The  Universal  Exposition. 
A Family  Luncheon. 

(105) 


The  Railways. 

“Well,  here’s  to  good  luck!  Perchance  in  this  one  we  will  be  free 
from  accident!  ” 


(107) 


Winter  Sketches. 

On  the  way  to  taste  what  one  is  pleased  to  call,  even  in  the  month 
of  December,  the  pleasures  of  the  chase ! 


(109) 


Summer  Sketches. 

“I  do  indeed  wish  to  learn  to  swim,  but  not  in  the  water,  papa, — oh! 
not  in  the  water!” 


(Ill) 


“My  dear  sir,  I will  gladly  pay  another  franc  if  you  will  have  the  very 
great  kindness  to  get  me  out  of  this  turnstile.” 

(113) 


They  Day  for  the  Distribution  of  Prizes. 

A Parisian  bourgeois,  no  matter  who,  escorting  his  children  home  from 
some  school,  no  matter  what  one. — The  father  alone  is  not  crowned  and 
it  is  verily  unjust. 


(115) 


Events  of  the  Day 

Impressions  of  Railway  Travel 

“ It  is  already  eight  days  since  there  has  been  an  accident  on  this  line — ' 
it  can’t  last  long — I am  sorry  we  took  this  excursion  train.” 


(117) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

“Come  back,  my  dear,  I beg — the  railroads  have  been  so  dangerous 
of  late  that  an  accident  might  happen  to  you  just  looking  at  a passing 
train.” 


(119) 


The  Railways. 

Third-class  travellers — completely  frozen. 


(121) 


I 


Events  of  the  Day. 

A Dream  that  Turns  to  Reality. 

Seeing  himself  forced  to  swallow  the  broth  which  Peter  the  Great  has 
prepared  for  him. 


(123) 


The  Pleasures  of  the  Chase. 

Behold  what  one  is  in  the  habit  of  calling  the  lively  emotions  of  the 
chase ! 


(125) 


Aquatic  Sketches 

“Enter  the  water  without  fear  Mr.  Potard,  you  see  there  is  no  danger, 
as  I am  already  in  it!  ” 

“Madame  Potard,  if  you  had  read  Buffon  you  would  be  less  bold — 
you  would  know  that  two  of  the  most  terrible  animals  in  nature  are  in  the 
ocean — sharks  and  lobsters!” 


(127) 


Events  of  the  Day. 
The  Awakening  of  Italy. 


(129) 


At  the  St.  Maur  Encampment. 
Visit  to  the  tents  of  the  Zouaves. 
“Look,  they  sleep  like  ordinary  men. 

(131) 


Our  Troopers. 

In  Italy. 

“Great  Scott!  one  must  eat  his  soup  quickly  in  this  country — the 
longer  one  waits  the  hotter  it  gets!  ” 

(133) 


Summer  Sketches 

View  of  the  Entrance  to  the  Deligny  Baths 


(135) 


/ 


At  the  St.  Maur  Encampment. 

M.  Prudhomme  satisfying  a warlike  fancy  for  camping  in  a Zouave’s 
tent. 


(137) 


In  China. 

The  American  Ambassadors  arrived  at  Pekin. 


(139) 


In  China. 

“Look  at  that  box — it  contains  the  American  envoys  on  the  way  to 
Pekin!” 

“Any  one  would  say  it  was  a coach  full  of  curious  animals.  ” 

“Faith!  If  they  are  curious,  so  much  the  worse  for  them,  for  they 
can’t  see  much  of  the  country  they  are  travelling  through.” 

(141) 


Sketches  of  the  Hunt 

“Look,  I have  just  killed  a magnificent  grouse!’’ 

“Unlucky  dog!  It  is  the  Brahma  rooster  from  the  neighbouring 
farm — a rooster  that  may  cost  you  over  thirty  sous — to  say  nothing  of 
the  drubbing  you  ’ll  get.  ” 


(143) 


in  China 

Chinese  Patrol  Reconnoitrin; 

(145) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

China  Civilising  Herself. 

“Now,  attention!  this  is  the  European  theory — the  eyes  fifteen  feet  in 
front  and  bring  the  foot  that  is  on  the  ground  up  to  meet  the  one  that  is 
in  the  air.  ” 


(147) 


In  China. 

“ Tchinn-Tchinn,  you  bring  good  news!  I accord  to  you  the  signal 
honour  of  kissing  the  august  dust  of  my  august  slippers!  ” 


(149) 


■<*»**#■  


Events  of  the  Day. 

“See,  Adelaide.  I wished  to  give  you  a surprise — I have  brougnt  these 
Zouaves  to  dine  with  us — four  men  and  a corporal!  I warn  you  they  have 
good  appetites!  ’’ 


(151) 


I I i 


Events  of  the  Day. 

More  wonders  of  the  magnetising  stone — or  how,  in  society,  to  make 
ladies  take  poses  no  less  fatiguing  than  ungraceful. 

(153) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

“To  think  that  we  are  now  Parisians!'1 


(155) 


The  World  Depicted. 

Photographers  and  Photographed. 


(157) 


Dramatic  Sketches  by  Daumier 
“Ah!  my  dear  Sir,  you  have  given  me  a delightful  evening.  You 
reminded  me  of  Talma.  ” 

“Truly  did  I remind  you  of  Talma?” 

“Yes,  especially  in  the  shape  of  your  nose.  ” 


(159) 


Events  of  the  Day. 
European  Equilibrium. 


(161) 


Events  of  the  Day 

Charivari  obliged  to  make  at  short  notice  a new  picture  of  the  place 
where  the  Temple  of  Peace  is  erected. 

(163) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

"Ow,  ow,  he  has  licked  the  butter  off  my  bread.  ” 


(165) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

At  Clichy. 

Asking  himself  if  the  abolition  of  imprisonment  for  debt  v/ill  be 
ratified  in  time  to  let  him  go  to  the  Exposition. 

(167) 


' ; ' 


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Events  of  the  Day. 

Regretting  that  they  are  not  millers. 


(169) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

The  one  who  looks  to  the  South:  The  Deuce! 
The  one  who  looks  to  the  East:  The  Dickens! 


(171) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

What  England  calls  a trait-d’  Union. 


(173) 


Events  of  the  Day. 
With  apologies  to  the  Japanese. 


(175) 


Events  of  the  Day 
A Laureate  in  1868 


(177) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

What  the  deuce  is  taking  away  his  appetite? 


(179) 


Events  of  the  Day. 

The  Prince  of  Hohenzollern  finds  the  approach  decidedly  too  grim. 


(181) 


Events  of  the  Day 

What  the  dickens  are  they  doing  up  there?” 
(183) 


/ 


Events  of  the  Day. 

“ My  fields  pillaged,  my  horse  carried  off,  my  money  stolen,  that  is 
what  they  call  patriotic  ! ” 


(185) 


\ 


CH-  & 


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GETTY  CENTER  LIBRARY 


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